Touch Of The Ocean
by Jennifer Lynn Weston
Summary: Just a peaceful interval at anchorage. At least, as peaceful as things ever get with Jack Sparrow around.


_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney._

_xxx_

In the light of the newly risen sun, First Mate Joshamee Gibbs stood on the _Black Pearl's_ quarterdeck, surveying the damage from last night's squall.

Every part of the ship he could see was sopping wet, of course. Three sails had been ripped- Pintel, Ragetti, and a few other crew members were already at work repairing those. And a large portion of the ship's freshwater stores had been contaminated by salt spray. As soon as those sails were back together, they'd head for the nearest spring-fed island for replenishment.

All things considered, it wasn't too bad. Certainly it would've been far worse, if Captain Sparrow hadn't managed to navigate his ship to this wave-dampening drop-off beyond the reefs. How he'd managed to locate it, in the midst of that blinding tempest, was a question Gibbs didn't expect to ever have answered.

The crew had their own ideas, of course. It was whispered among them that Captain Jack's half-mad personality was not unrelated to his amazing ability to predict storms, and to guide ships through them. The Touch of the Ocean was upon him, 'twas said- the wind and waves spoke to him, in ways very few men were able to recognize, let alone understand. And, of course, no mortal who experienced such contact could avoid partaking in a trace of the sea's boundless insanity.

Gibbs was perfectly happy to let the crew indulge in such speculations... had even been known to embellish 'em. The men'd be much more likely to tolerate their captain's considerable eccentricities, if they believed he also had special ability to keep his ship and crew safe in inclement weather.

Even as Gibbs pondered this, Sparrow himself stepped out on deck, clad only in breeches and shirt. After the long, wet night Jack had put in at the helm, Gibbs hadn't expected him to arise before noon.

"Good mornin', Cap'in! I didn't think ye'd be gettin' up this early!"

Jack, looking surprisingly refreshed, gave his second in command a reassuring grin. "The sun's too bright in me cabin, mate. I be hankering fer the feel of it."

Gibbs could certainly understand that. No sunlight was sweeter to the eye or the skin, than that which broke free following a storm.

And the current view from the 'Pearl's deck did it special justice. The ship was now anchored close against the drop-off. To starboard was unbroken marine blue; to port, the myriad shades of the reef shallows- aqua, turquoise, and azure. The water, now calm, was clear enough to show the branched coral and sponge thickets, where reef fish added winks of rarer colors- scarlet, amethyst, saffron and emerald.

Jack eyed this inviting display for a minute or so. Then, scooping up a sodden gunny sack, he cheerfully proceeded to the port railing and skimmed off his shirt.

"Goin' fer a swim, Cap'in?"

"Aye! Send a bucket down an' I'll forage some shellfish fer us." Jack shed his breeches, stepped up onto the railing, and dove in. His lean form pierced the water with surprisingly little splash, trailing twin streams of fine bubbles as he arrowed down towards the life-crowded dropoff.

Gibbs obediently hunted up a bucket, tied an adequately long rope to the handle, and lowered it off the port side. By the time it hit water, Jack was back on the surface, stroking towards the ship. The contents of the gunny sack clinked wetly as he emptied it into the bucket. Gibbs grinned, recognizing the banded objects. Scallops!

"Nice haul, Jack."

"An' plenty more where they came from. Should be easy ta fetch enough fer the whole crew!" So saying, the pirate captain plunged back to the bountiful reef. Gibbs shook his head admiringly. He himself could swim well enough to keep his head above water, but to maneuver through it the way Jack did, easy and agile as though he were himself a marine creature... that was something his First Mate could only marvel at.

After three more foraging dives, the bucket was full to capacity. Gibbs smilingly hauled it to the deck, poured the tasty contents onto another spread sack, and, after fastening the rope's free end, lowered it back down to give Jack a means of climbing aboard.

But the Captain didn't seem to be in any hurry to relinquish the sea; he'd pushed himself a couple lengths from the _Pearl_, and was now leisurely backstroking alongside. Well, Gibbs considered, there was no hurry. The ship wouldn't be going anywhere before those sails were mended.

So Gibbs set about sorting the hard-shelled bounty. As usual, Jack had acquired several merely pretty mollusks, in addition to the edible ones. Cowries, cone shells, volutes. More prime specimens for the Captain's collection, which would already be the envy of many a rich nobleman.

Joshamee was appreciatively examining a mottled-ebony cone, when he heard a cry of alarm. Marty, up on the rigging, was urgently gesturing towards the reef off the port bow. Gibbs looked, and immediately spotted the large, tapering form. Sharp-nosed, sharp-finned. The tail movement was not a dolphin's reassuring up-and-down stroke, but a more sinister side-to-side undulation. And it was headed straight towards their unwary Captain.

Gibbs flung himself against the rail, about to bark a warning, when Jack did a swift backwards summersault, arching down to meet the closing predator. There was a sudden upwelling of splash- a vivid-blue caudal fin broke the surface, thrashed, disappeared into white foam... then the shadowy form darted away, retreating along the reef far more quickly than it had approached.

Jack's head popped up, apparently uninjured, nor even looking much perturbed.

"Are ye all right, Cap'in?" Gibbs called anxiously.

"Never better!" Jack shook his braids back from his face, flashing another golden grin. "I just convinced 'im he could get a better breakfast elsewhere. I'm too scrawny. An' tough," he added, with a feral baring of his teeth.

Up on the ratlines, Marty did some relieved swearing. The sail-mending crew looked disappointed about missing the spectacle.

Gibbs confined himself to grasping the railing as his knees steadied. "If ye don't mind my askin', sir; how'd ya know that beast was comin' at ya?"

"She told me." Jack trailed one hand over the water's rocking surface- almost a caressing gesture. "Me love's in a generous mood this mornin'."

Jack settled back into his floating position, obviously unconcerned about any further attacks. His dreadlocks spread out, framing his head like a dark nimbus.

Gibbs shook his own noggin, as he knelt back down beside the shellfish. Drawing his pocket knife, he proceeded to pry open the scallops and extract the orangy meat. Nice fat specimens, these- easily enough to provide the entire crew with a succulent repast.

He continued to send occasional glances towards his blissfully adrift Captain, but was not really concerned. Shrugging, he conceded, "Eh, if he's caught her in a soft mood, 'e may as well take advantage."

There were intervals, Gibbs knew, when it was everything a man could want, to just rest gently in his lady's arms.

xxx

**FINIS**


End file.
